You Will Survive
by A-jay4121
Summary: my life story to inspire all of you that life isn't all bad and it will get better. You Will Survive.


**You Will Survive**

I don't know what I did to deserve this life. Nor do I regret anything I've ever done. Everything happens for a reason, right? You may be wondering what I'm talking about and I promise that I will get to that, but first I want to give you a little background information.

I can't say that I had a bad childhood because in truth my childhood was perfect compared to most people. I was born in Cocoa, Florida on November 10,1994 around 6 in the morning. I was a small baby and I certainly gave my parents a scare. Soon after I was born I stopped breathing a few times. So I suppose you could say that i was a problem child from the start. I was the second born of 3 children in my family. My parents were loving and tried to give us everything we ever wanted. We lived in cocoa for 6 years after I was born. We moved to Tennessee the year that I was going to start kindergarten. A few years later was when my problems started.

One night when I was about 10 years old there were bad thunderstorms sweeping through the area. Thinking nothing of it, my family and I went to bed. Now, what you must understand about my home at the time is that my room was on the second floor. Our house was down in a valley surrounded by 24 acres of open pasture,rock walls, and woods. Little did I know that when I went to bed that evening my life would change for ever the next morning.

I know it was a week day because I remember that my father was at work. Though I'm pretty sure it was during the summer because I wasn't in school. Anyway, the next day my mom and I think my siblings got into the car and went for a drive. I can't say that I remember why we drove down this particular rode or why we were even out, but I do remember seeing the aftermath of the tornado that was on the rode behind my little valley home while I was sleeping in my bed on the second floor. On this rode behind my house lived a little girl that went to my school. I had never talked to her face to face and I wasn't friends with her but I remember seeing her in the yearbooks and in the hall. She was a good student and she got a lot of awards and she was friends with everybody.

On this particular night she was staying across the street from her home with her grandparents. Her grandparents lived in a little brick house just big enough for two people to live in comfortably. Just like I was this little girl was sleeping when the tornado came through. The tornado hit her grandparent's home and a brick wall crushed her to death. The odd thing about this tornado is that It missed every single house on that road except the one that that little girl was sleeping in. As we drove by, a news channel was filming a story about the little girl. All that was left of this house was the wooden from. The roof was about a half mile away in the woods and bricks were scattered everywhere.

Now before you jump to conclusions about my mom, when she drove by that house with me in the backseat she didn't think that it would affect me like it has. Before I tell you exactly how It affected me you need to know a little more about my life.

In 2004 we moved to Tittusville, Florida. I lived a good life there, finishing out Elementary school. In my 6th-grade year I was taken to Jackson middle school for an orientation. That was when I met Jason Adkins. As soon as he started talking to me I was smitten. The only problem was I knew I'd be moving away over the summer so I would never get to go to school with him. So on that day I got his email, gave him mine and we promised to stay in touch. Before I tell you what happened to this incredible boy I must tell you that I was in love with him. Deeply in love with him. Even If I **was** just 13.

In 2007 Jason Adkins died of heart failure. I was informed of this by a phone call from his sister Sarah who I had also met at orientation. For 3 weeks after that devastating phone call I barely ate, barely slept, and refused to talk to anyone. My parents didn't know about the phone call until almost a month after it happened.

Now I'll explain why this events are important. In 2008 I was taken to a psychiatrist. I remember sitting in that room between my mom and dad, scared that something was wrong with me. My parents kept answering questions for what seemed to me like an hour and the psychiatrist kept typing things on her computer. I remember wishing I knew what she was thinking because she looked like she already knew what was wrong with me. Moments later I was diagnosed with Post traumatic stress disorder. What this basically means is that events in my life have made me scared of anything related to them. Take storms for example. For two years after I was diagnosed with PTSD if there was so much as a little gray loud in the sky I would have a panic attack. This is all because of the tornado event. Also, when anyone got sick or I started feeling even slightly off I would have a panic attack. I was scared to death of death(funny I know).

I will be the first to admit that when I was diagnosed I felt like I was a monster. I didn't think that I could ever be cured. And in fact I'm still not cured. I will never be cured. I'm just learning to cope with my problems. I remember feeling like the worst child in the world because my mom cried when we left the psychiatrist's office. I felt like I was a curse more than a precious gift that everyone says children are to adults. I guess I just felt like the odd child because nothing this horrible was wrong with my little brother or older sister.

For 2 or 3 years after I was diagnosed I got worse before I got better. My panic attacks got worse as well as more frequent. More and more things started to bother me. I felt like I was keeping my family from having fun. I couldn't go to amusement parks because the thought of getting on anything terrified me. It still does. I couldn't go to see movies because I felt claustrophobic.

The good part of this story is that my life got so much better after I met Katie Cochran in 2009. I had gym class with her 1st period every morning. To me she was just a sophomore that didn't care about any of the freshman like me. However once I started talking to her I realized I had band with her. We did pep band together and I sat behind her at every game. At the first game we got bored and started talking about our lives. That was when I found out we had the same problems. The next day in gym class she asked me for my cellphone number. You know how you know somebody since kindergarten and you have an unbreakable bond with them? That's how I am with Katie and I've only know her for a year. We call each other sister and we are inseparable in everything we do. She is the one person that changed my life. What I have never told anyone except her is that the night she started talking to me was the night she also saved my life. The thing I don't want to admit is that on that very night after the game I was going to commit suicide. I had everything planned out. Where, when, and how. For some reason I put aside my trust issues for her and decided no to go through with it at least for a couple more days.

Now my life is slowly getting better. Every time I relapse I just think about how it would affect Katie and I stick around. I'm starting to have less panic attacks and my health is approving as well. That is not why I wrote this story though. I wrote this to assure people like me that it **will** get better. Just keep your chin up, trust the right people, and most importantly be positive. Don't **think** that you can do it. **Know **you can.


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